Killing for Pleasure
by xXPhantoms-AngelXx
Summary: Tristan, Lancelot, and new characters. Tristan is consumed by the fall of blood. What will happen to him if he will not stop killing for his insane pleasure? First Shot...please R&R!


Title: Killing for Pleasure…

Summary: What would happen if Tristan never died in the end? What would become of him? READ IT! Characters: _Tristan, Lancelot, and other character's. _

NOTE: ok, due to the fact that these characters from the movie "King Arthur" Are not mine, I do not take the credit. The credit goes to the author/director. Okey doke! Have a good day reading. (Please do not kill me….PLEASE….because I know you do this too.)

After fifteen years of battling and almost dieing, Tristan knew, he was lucky. Lucky that

he was alive, that he now was free; he was his own being, his own self, and not Rome's.

Tristan, after receiving his discharge papers, he would now go back on his own missions.

But what missions? For some reason he had missed being in wars with Arthur,

Lancelot, and along with all the others. He missed them all. He missed killing, the smell of blood.

Although, Tristan had a good heart, he had a very gory mind. And now that these wars

were over, it disturbed him of how he could not kill human beings anymore. He never

understood himself, how he loved the ways that people fell to the ground after a strike in

the gut, or the screeches and shrills of a man dieing. It brought him pleasure. And maybe

because of the fact, he was brought up to fight, for fifteen years, and he believed in

nothing…maybe that was the reason, or maybe, just maybe he was disturbingly sick.

"Damn this!" Tristan called to nothing, and nobody in sight. He turned his horse around,

and rode into a village, it was pouring down rain, dark clouds, just the type of day to have

a couple drinks, and be on his way. "I'll take a beer." Tristan said plainly, and as casually

as he could. The beer slid to his hand, as he swiftly guzzled it down. "Another." He said,

and they got him another beer. He repeated this process until four drinks later, he was a bit intoxicated.

Heading out the door, a man yelled behind him, "Sir! You forgot to pay!" Saying this to

Tristan, meant bad news when he was drunk, and saying anything that would sound

demanding was dangerous. Tristan's steps moved slowly as he headed to the bar tender.

he clutched the handle of his blade, with no one noticing. "The world isn't free" The bar

tender shrugged. Tristan smiled dimly, as he came so close, they could feel each other breathe. "Life to you maybe cost," Tristan paused as his eyes burned with tempt, "As for me, I take it freely." Whipping out his sword, he lunged toward the man's stomach, and pierced inside and out. Blood flowed down from his lips, and rolled off his chin.

Tristan ran out, shoving his sword back in case. _"Damn!" _Tristan thought, _"I came for a drink, and all I did was murder."_ Tristan leapt onto his dapple gray mare, and galloped off. Maybe he did just come for a couple drinks. Or maybe, all he came for was to spill some blood. But it made no difference, what had happened was done. Nothing could change it.

2

…Run…

Tristan awoke, his head throbbing, and he was tired. "Hangover…" Tristan said to himself as he got up to bathe into a near by pool of water. He set aside his clothes on a tree branch, after making sure no one was around. Ripples formed around him as he took careful steps into the water, half and hour later, he was out and drying him self from the sun on a rock. Memories took place in his mind, from fifteen years ago, and up until now. The wars that they fought, the people that died, the blood spilled...the bar tender he killed yesterday.

Wait! Tristan couldn't believe he had forgotten, or killed him of that matter. What he did know, was that he was now a murderer. Finally, he was dry; he put back on his fresh clothes, and felt hungry. So, gathering his weapons, to hunt for some bloody food, he sung a song:

_The days are long, and the night is short_

_Pain is the beauty of a different sort_

_Rain may fall and the wind may blow_

_Many happiness and sadness will show_

_But the darkness and shadows of night often grows_

_A punch in the nose, a hit in the face_

_Still we wonder, what is this place?_

_O' we wonder, what is this place?_

Tristan made up that song, and sings it time and again. He ran silently, and in hopes he could find some animal that would taste delicious. A deer was standing quietly, grazing on the mild soft grass. Tristan raised his bow, putting a nicely sharpened arrow in place, shooting it into the air, landing into the deer. Tristan ran to it, hearing the deer breathe hard, and fast. Trying not to die, and run away. But it was to week, Tristan saw the magic, how beautiful this was. Yet, he felt gross, and disgustingly terrible that he had these feelings for death. He finally ended the rest of the deer, and carried it back to where he had set camp.

His horse nickered at Tristan as the mare smelt and heard him, "Good evening girl…" Tristan said, dropping the lame deer down by a log that probably got shocked down by lightning, or split because of wind, but whatever the reason of how the log fell; it was here, sitting nice and perfect for a long night of sitting in front of a bright hot fire. Tristan let out a deep, and heavy sigh, whipping out his knife, Tristan shaved the warm fur off the deer, skinning the deer, only blood and skin showed.

Tristan shoved a long metal stick up the deer's butt, and out the chest, setting it onto two sticks on the left and right side, holding the deer up, over a wood, and dry grass that would soon become nothing but the bright flames of fire. As Tristan waited for the deer to roast, he grabbed his long sword, wanting to sharpen it. "Hey! Over here!" Tristan's ears perked, his heart beat thumped a little faster. He grabbed his belongings, which were nothing but his weapons, and leapt onto the gray dapple horse of his, squeezing its sides.

"Hurry, he's getting away!" The man's voice echoed through the forest, and inside Tristan's ears. "Faster Gray Tear, faster!" Tristan demanded his horse, as Gray Tear picked up her hooves, faster in haste. They were invincible, flying through the air like magic, they could not be stopped. On second thought, maybe they could. Three men on tall bay horses came charging toward them, yelling things like, "stop now!" "Dismount or die!" "Murderer, you shall be avenged!"

Tristan ignored these words, he had ran away on his long journeys with his fellow warriors, and never been caught. And he never shall.

Tristan looked up toward the gray skies, seeing his pet bird, the black and loyal friend of his, which came flying over head, cawing like he was saying "This way! Follow me!" Tristan did, and sure enough, all he heard were echoes, Tristan was safely hidden far, and those other riders, which had to have been officers, were lost.

"It's about time you've shown up," Tristan said to the bird, as it landed gently on his arm. Rain started pouring down into the forest, Tristan leaped back onto Gray Tear, and trotted along with Epona, which is the bird.

"Thought you could get away, did you?" Tristan swiftly turned around, gripping his bow tight in his hand, along with an arrow in place, "If you wish to shoot an officer, I pray you know what penalty's you will face."

"Kiss my ass, and tie my boots, is what I would wish for such a vile roman as your self." Tristan chuckled, "However, if it would please you, that I would end your life, please say so, that I shall run this arrow through your legs, if not, then shut up, and die in what way seems best for you."

The roman officer was slightly amused by Tristan's false words, and bravery of talking back to him, "Listen murderer,"-

"Tristan…" Tristan said calmly correcting that he had a name.

The officer continued, "Tristan, right. If you would be so kind, to follow me, and the rest of my crew,"-

"I shall not be put to death so fast," Tristan muttered, "Die" Those words were the last that the officer had heard. An arrow swiveled in the air, and bled into the officer's stomach, nothing more was said. Tristan rode away, running from this ghastly and dramatic scene, trying to escape whatever was happening inside him. The officer's gasp of last breath made Tristan's mouth turn… he grinned. Tristan had to run away.

3

…The unexpected…

Dawn had peaked over the earth; Tristan was sound asleep, dreaming of the past, how things used to be before receiving his discharge papers. But suddenly a terrifying and horrible beast came and ripped off Tristan's head! And that was the end of Tristan.

But not really…I just had to throw something in before the story got boring… "GET ON WITH IT!" says Darth Vader…ok, ok… lets see…ah yes! Tristan was sound asleep, dreaming. Something was creeping silently and curiously to him. Tristan's eye lids propped open, revealing his threatening enchanting dark brown eyes. Before Tristan could let himself stand, the man before Tristan halted him.

"Good morning Tristan! It's surprising to find you at this hour, in the middle of these parts of forest!" The man spoke

"Lancelot, good to see you mate," Tristan said calmly, "And what honor it is to see you again."

"On the contrary Tristan," Lancelot nodded, "So, what brings you so far out this way? Isn't your home with the Druids?"

"Why yes, actually, but"- Tristan was cut off.

"Don't explain Tristan…" Lancelot said with worry in his eyes, "I know what has happened. It's everywhere in town." Tristan shuddered at Lancelot's words. And he couldn't tolerate to hear them. Tristan sat up, about to stand, but Lancelot pushed him down.

"What is the meaning of this, Lancelot?" Tristan furrowed his eyebrows.

"Have you forgotten?" Lancelot chuckled, "King Arthur made me one of his head guards. I thought you knew that. No matter, I must report you immediately." Tristan was outraged,

"Lancelot, I thought we stood for one another! We all swore to protect each other from things…any things!" Tristan pleaded, "And you betrayed me…me!"

"You should have decided that when you killed two innocent men!"

Tristan could have killed Lancelot; he could have drawn out his blade, and stabbed him! But Lancelot was his friend, always his friend…Tristan couldn't kill someone he knew so well, so very well.

His hands were tied with scratchy, painful rope, almost feeling like tiny needles around his wrist. Tristan winced. Lancelot held a firm grip on Gray Tear's reins, not letting Tristan out of his sight…again.

_I need to find some fucking way to escape_

Tristan thought, glaring harshly at Lancelot, who thought he was the cleverness man alive, catching the hardest man to catch, was more then being guard, it was rewarding. Tristan was glad for Lancelot generosity, of letting him sit upon his own horse…although Tristan was tied up with painful rope, and Lancelot holding tight to it, Tristan still had his legs. Tristan griped the horses sides, squeezed hard, and the horse knew that signal from the beginning of time. Gray Tear bolted, Lancelot, unaware, let loose of the horse's reins, but still held on tight, letting his horse do the same. They both rode vastly toward Rome.

…His blood…

It was a bright and sunny afternoon, the next day. Of course, Tristan couldn't realize it at the time, because he was in a dungeon. Dark, cold, and damp those evil places are. Tristan sat curled up in a corner. Taking everything in, looking at his new, cruel surroundings. He noticed how everything he owned, like his sword was still in place, still there, ready for him to whip it out and…and what? Tristan pondered about this. They usually take prisoner's weapons…don't they? Or maybe until the prisoner is proven guilty…but I am for sure guilty, or do they know that for sure? Where is this prison anyway? All these questions were flooding his brain like a man gasping for air.

"Hey, sir, what are you in for?" Tristan looked up, realizing he wasn't alone, "Sir, I asked you a fucking question!"

"And I shall answer!" Tristan said with murder in his breath. He whipped out his sword, and gutted the other prisoner in the heart, "I killed one officer, one innocent man in a bar, and now you, a damn prisoner…" Tristan said as he saw the man choking up blood, trying to breath, but couldn't. Tristan watched with pleasure. Minutes later, the man finally and dramatically took one last choke as he died. Tristan griped onto his cellar bars as he heard people begging for food, coughing, and sometimes screaming "I'm innocent!" From left to right. Tristan just stood there, no worry, no expression on him, just pain and disgusting pleasure of murder.

These were the last days of Tristan. For two more years being prisoner, Tristan stabbed himself to death. Feeling the pain he had done to others. And before he died, he had written this note-

_I have been here three years, and even if you had let me go, I would have killed again_

_And again, so why lock me up? I say, do you ever take time to think about blood? How red and how beautiful it leaks out slowly? How it has to come out of flesh to see it. Do you see my blood? Poured on the floor? Guess you do. _

_-Tristan_

Author note-

Ok, finally done with this story. I had no idea how to end it. And it sort of bored me. But if you like it, please review! If you don't…REVIEW! Ha-ha, yes I know it was some what disturbing…but in the movie, Tristan did "kill for pleasure"! So I made a story on it. Anyway, Here's to Tristan, may he R.I.P! cheers!


End file.
